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I find myself stealing glances at Susan, a warm feeling spreading through me. I can’t deny that her presence brightens up the room and fills it with a certain energy I’ve been missing.
I’ve always been guarded, keeping my emotions locked away, but something about Susan makes me want to let my walls down. Her genuine enthusiasm and playful nature have a way of melting my grumpiness, and I’m starting to realize how happy I am that she’s here.
Susan wakes us each up with a morning kiss, and we make our way downstairs.
As I watch her laugh and interact with Artie and Ollie, I feel a warmth in my chest. It’s a feeling I’m not used to, but it’s pleasant, comforting even. It’s as if Susan has the power to bring out the softer side of me that I’ve kept hidden for so long.
I contemplate this change within myself, wondering if it’s because Susan makes me feel seen and understood. She doesn’t judge me for my grumpiness. Instead, she embraces it with patience and kindness.
I walk over to the window, drawn by the gentle flickering of the falling snow. As I peer outside, I notice that the snowstorm is starting to die down. The wind has weakened, and the once fierce flurry has transformed into delicate flakes floating softly to the ground. It’s not fast enough to replace the slowly melting snow on the ground.
I swallow hard. Susan might not have much more time with us.
As I stand lost in my thoughts by the window, Susan approaches me with a gentle smile.
“Hey, Ed,” Susan says softly, placing a hand on my arm. “Is everything alright?”
I take a deep breath, grateful for her concern. “Yeah, just reflecting on some things,” I reply.
“Tell me about it,” she says.
“I’d rather not,” I say, looking away.
Susan bites her lip. “Is this about Fiona?”
My gaze cuts to her. “How do you know about her?”
“Artie mentioned her, kind of,” Susan says.
“Fucking Artie,” I mutter under my breath.
“Please don’t blame him,” Susan says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t mean to pry. I just wanted to know what’s up with you. It’s so hard to read you sometimes. You’re more opaque than your brothers.”
I guess she deserves to know since she gave me a part of her past as well.
“Fiona and I had something special,” I begin, my voice tinged with a hint of sadness. “We loved each other deeply, but things became complicated when she asked me to choose between her and my brothers.
“I loved Fiona, but my brothers are my family, my blood,” I explain, my voice filled with a mixture of regret and resolve. “I couldn’t abandon them. I couldn’t choose between the love I had for Fiona and the love I have for Artie and Ollie. It tore me apart.
“After that fight with Fiona, she left in anger. She got into an accident…and she didn’t survive.”
A torrent of emotions rushes through me, memories flooding back with intense clarity. The regret, the guilt, the longing—each feeling threatens to overwhelm me.
“I loved her, Susan,” I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. “Despite our differences, I still loved her. And now she’s gone, and I can never make things right.”
“Ed,” she says softly, her voice filled with empathy. “I can’t even begin to comprehend the depth of your loss and the weight of your grief. Losing someone we love is never easy, and the pain can be overwhelming.”
I nod. It’s a relief to let it all out after so long.
“But, Ed,” Susan continues, her voice steady yet compassionate, “it’s important to remember that you can’t shoulder the burden of her accident. You didn’t cause it. Life can be tragically unpredictable, and sometimes events unfold in ways we could never anticipate.”
“You’re right, Susan. It’s been four years since that happened. I haven’t let anybody in since then. So it’s…difficult for me.”
Her hands fold over mine. “I get it. Take all the time you need.”
She tries to step back, but I hold her in place. Her dark eyes meet mine. My gaze runs over her face, memorizing her features. Susan isn’t just beautiful, she’s simply ethereal. She fits, not just with me but with my brothers. She’s an angel who walked into our lives while we didn’t even realize it.
“I don’t think I need that anymore,” I confess. It takes all of me to say that.
